Breaking Armour
by Blue Dragon
Summary: Tar Valon, the centre of Siuan Sanche's world, is breaking under the Seanchan attack. But all she can think of is how Gareth bloody Bryne will ride into battle and get himself killed. So she abandons duty and goes to see him. *AU to Gathering Storm*


**Breaking Armour**

Siuan Sanche _knew_ that she shouldn't have gone to see Gareth Bryne. The Hall would be furious with her.

But Min was always right, and Min had said to stay with Bryne. That was her reason, Siuan told herself firmly, her only and entire reason: Min was always right.

The Hall had told her to go with the novices. She was part of the little crew tasked with bringing the novices to safety. Not that 'safety' was easy to find, nowadays.

The Seanchan were in Tar Valon. It still rocked her to think of it. It made her furious and fearful at once, and she had to _make_ herself look up, for whenever she did she saw the Tower ablaze. The Power was being used as a weapon, at such quantities that even at the distance to the Salidar Aes Sedai camp, it made Siuan's skin crawl. More _raken_ screeched their blood-curling cries than all the sisters of the Tower could bring down with fireballs. There were beasts she couldn't name, and uncountable disciplined men and women in armour, joined by _damane_ who called all the fury of the One Power down on any who dared offer resistance. It was a nightmare crawled out from someone's deepest and darkest despair.

After the Hall's shouting matches had been settled, the Salidar Aes Sedai had decided that differences between the Tower factions could be sorted out later. First this invader had to be stopped. Aside from the small group tasked with seeing to the novices, every Aes Sedai and Accepted, and the entire army, was to be thrown against the Seanchan. Against this invader who had come to –

Come to slap a silver collar around the neck of any woman who could channel as much as a thread, whether she wore the ring or just novice white.

She wished she had still been strong enough in the Power for them to let her _fight_. The Tower was _her_ home too. _Her_ everything, too. The centre of her existence. How could they ask her to simply turn her back and run away?

Still, she should have done as the Hall had said. Someone needed to see to the novices; all those girls and women too inexperienced to fend for themselves. She _would_ have done as the Hall had said, if not for… if not for Gareth Bryne.

For in the midst of this chaos, in full view of the Tower burning and her entire world crumbling, all Siuan could think of was how he would soon ride off and get himself _killed_. Why did he have to make everything so _complicated_? She had enough to deal with without having her thoughts foam and swirl like water broken under the bow, just because _he_ happened to cross her mind. The Tower, Aes Sedai, the Hall, the novices, everything she had worked for and loved; it was all about to be torn asunder, and somehow it was all irrelevant next to Gareth _bloody_ Bryne.

She felt as if there was a cord tied around her, and it would either drag her to him or choke her. And for every step she had to fight tears. What if she was too late, and he had already ridden out?

Min had said she must stay close to the man. She must stay close, or they would both die. Min was never wrong. The novices could do without her – there were plenty of Aes Sedai set as their escort. The Hall could say what they pleased when they learned of her disobedience – _if_ they found out – if any of them survived.

When Siuan burst into his square little tent and found him standing there, surrounded by a few men and his aide, all she could do was thank the Light that he had not yet gone. He was still there.

"Yes, Siuan?"

Suddenly she couldn't meet his eyes. She stood there like a fool, breath warring with the lump in her throat, and knotted her fingers into her skirts. She had come all this way, and –

"Leave us," he told his men, with that quiet certainty men would always listen to, but without taking his eyes off her. "You too, Breckon. I shall be along shortly." The aide bowed and followed the others.

"Well, Siuan," he murmured sombrely. "My boots are already polished and my shirts are all clean. But there is little time, and as long as you're here, I could use your help. If you don't mind…?" He held out his hands.

Glad for something to do, she went to him, and took up the work his aide had left. She began adjusting the cuffs of his linen shirt, then snaring tight the laces on the gambeson around his forearms. Beside him, neatly arranged on a rack, hung his complete set of armour, and a mail shirt, the old scars in the metal like omens of what was to come.

She bit her lip as she worked, did not raise her eyes to his. She said nothing, for she was afraid of what she might say if… if she did speak. She had seldom felt so frustrated, so angry, so powerless. It was so unfair. _Take care of the novices, Siuan_. Fishguts! She wanted to be strong again, so that she might _fight_. So that she wouldn't have to stand there helpless and watch bloody Gareth Bryne ride into this mad war without her.

It was her war too. It was even the bloody _novices'_ war. If they lost today, would there ever be anywhere safe for any woman who could channel?

And there stood Gareth without saying a word. She stopped biting her lip when she realised the tang of blood had seeped into her mouth. Her eyes were wet. Burn her, but she would not weep. She had no time for weeping. No use crying when the nets are already torn. Haul in what you can save and count yourself fortunate.

Couldn't the man _say_ something? She felt his eyes on her bent head as she worked. But he didn't speak. Usually he always criticized her work. Whatever she did, he wanted it done in some other way. Now he was silent.

Siuan finished with the gambeson, rightened the collar about his neck with a few sharp tugs, and reached for the leather-and-mail shirt. It was heavy – Gareth helped her. He raised the mail shirt easily and slipped it over his head.

"Do you know anything of armour, Siuan?"

"I had a Warder," Siuan told him sharply. "I know what goes where." But she did not want to think of Alric right then. The tears were close enough as it was – just the mention of her dead Warder made them well up in her eyes, and she had to blink to clear her sight.

_Laces to be tightened_, she reminded herself, and jerked furiously at the leather thongs. Gareth helpfully moved his arms aside so that she could reach, and still – still just bloody _watched_ her.

"This is new," he said finally. "Siuan Sanche, without a word to say."

She slapped a vambrace into place on his forearm and began securing it. "If you intend to tell me I should be back with –"

"No," he assured her. "I'll tell you no such thing. You already know it."

The other vambrace. Then he helped her lift the cuirass, complete with pauldrons and rearguards and tassets and in a single clinking and clanking mass of metal and leather straps, from the rack and onto his shoulders. She rightened it until it sat just so. Ill-fitting armour got in a man's way and got him killed, Alric had told her. Too tight or too loose and –

"How can you even _move_ in all this?" she muttered angrily. Just to shift all that metal aside to reach the buckles was bad enough; she didn't want to think about wearing it. But men made it look so _easy_, burn them. She supposed that was why they didn't think much. They were busy trying to keep their heads up and feet down while trotting about wearing half a smithy each.

"Practice," he said, with a rare smile. "Necessity. It keeps a man alive."

"It makes a man more a fool than he usually is," Siuan opined. That came from Alric, too. "He thinks he's safe, clad in armour, but many find out too late that armour can _break_. And even if it doesn't, it has gaps. Metal doesn't make a man immortal. It makes him careless."

She adjusted all the straps, then loped his belt about his waist. Well, about the cuirass's waist. A sword, and a long-bladed dagger. So that was all he had with him to protect him, was it? The fool man would get himself killed. He might as well have dived in to swim naked with the silverpike. No – silverpike weren't bad enough. This time, it was something worse.

Bloody Seanchan, their bloody beasts, their bloody _damane_. The man was going to get – _going to_ – going to get himself –

"You've already secured those," Gareth reminded her and turned away the side she had been about to fiddle with.

Her hands flew on to the next –

"It's all done," he said, catching her wrists gently. "All in place. Thank you for your help, Siuan."

She stared at her hands, breathing hard. Was she done? Was it all set –? Armour not worn properly could –

"What's with you today? Are you angry? No," he amended, "you're not throwing things at me. You're not angry."

She tried to jerk her hands free, but he held on to them. His eyes were concerned. "You're trembling."

"I am _not_ trembling," she hissed and curled her hands into fists. He still did not let go. She was glad she was not wearing his metal gloves yet – that would have hurt. Odd, the things you took note of when you didn't want to remember what was really going on. "Why in the –"

"But Siuan," he interrupted her, surprised. "You're actually _frightened_."

"I am _not_ –" She cut the phrase off. Oh, she was free of the Oaths. She could have spoken on, uttered the lie, but… she would not lie to _him_. Not to Gareth. Through gritted teeth she went on; "Codswallop. Very well. I'm bloody frightened. Siuan Sanche, former Amyrlin Seat, is scared as a land-crab shoved head-first into the stormy blue. Does that make you _happy_?"

"It doesn't make me happy," Gareth told her sombrely. "No. It cuts me like a knife."

She raised her eyes to his. Somewhere in that eternal patient-stone expression she caught a flicker of pain. Slowly he shifted his grip on her now-limp hands, until he held only her fingertips. Watching her as if to ask her permission, he raised her hands between their faces, like in salute, and then kissed her fingers. First of one hand, then of the other.

She stared at him. She stared as he kept her fingers pressed to his lips for a moment, and kept staring as he lowered them. Burn him, but her knees felt suddenly limp as jelly-fish. Burn _him_. Any moment now, he would saunter off in that metal pseudo-safety of his and end up dead. He _would_. So what made the bloody man think he could –

"Have you any idea why I'm here, Siuan?"

She had to swallow hard and take a good mental grip on herself before she managed to answer him. "Because… because you gave oath to –"

"I'm here because of a pair of blue eyes." He nodded to her. "Your eyes. I couldn't get them out of my head. So, like a fool, I followed them. Though I'm much too old to be chasing any lass, pretty eyes or no."

Siuan made herself breathe. Sharply she inhaled, and then had to remind herself to exhale again. And no, she was still not trembling. _Not_. There weren't tears in her eyes, either. It was just those memories of Alric stirred by handling armour again. Not because this fool Lord Gareth _bloody_ Bryne, not because he was about to go – about to go and get himself bloody _killed_.

"I haven't much time," he went on quietly. "I just thought I should tell you."

_But what good did it do, now? What use was it, now?_

"You should return to the novices. I'm glad they assigned you there. You'll be safe. You'll have a chance to escape. Promise… that you'll be careful."

_Careful_?

He asked _her_ to be careful? He was the one dressed up in armour and about to battle an invader he couldn't possibly defeat. And _she_ should be careful?

"_You_ be careful, _Lord_ Gareth," she snapped at him. It was easier to snap than to think, or to _feel_. "Or I swear, the next time I _throw_ things at you, it'll be nothing smaller than a fishing jolly, and I'll aim for your thick _head_. Perhaps it'll whack some much-needed sense in. I know black-lined spear-fish with more sense in their bloody _tail fins_ than you've ever _had_. Standing there all calm as if you're off to an afternoon stroll in your own gardens –"

"Is this an actual _Aes Sedai_ criticizing me for keeping _calm_?"

"That armour of yours is just _metal_. It won't protect you against the Power, and thus it won't protect you –"

"You certainly don't make it easy," he murmured. "Hold up for a moment. Siuan, I'm trying to tell you that –"

"I don't want to hear it," Siuan blurted and shook her head. "Not _now_." She would have jerked her hands free again, except he held on. He bettered his grip; caught her elbows instead, holding her fast when she made to move away. _Stagger_ away, to be truthful. After twisting for a moment, she relaxed. It was no use. She could have broken free with the Power, but not without it. And using the Power on him would not be… fair.

_Was it fair of him to hold on when she tried to break free, then_? Oh, but if had he released her she would have collapsed to the floor. _Which is entirely beside the point_.

Deliberately, she met his eyes. "Let _go_ of me," she ordered.

"And there she is again: the untouchable Aes Sedai. The aloof Amyrlin with the might of the Tower to back her. You say _I'm_ the one dressed up in armour. At least I know where the _buckles_ to mine are, and can take it off at will. I think yours was _melded_ together. Now tell me. Why don't you want to hear –"

"Because –" He might have held her by the elbows, but she was close enough to slam both fists against his breastplate. It didn't have much effect, of course. But it somehow made her feel better. "Because it doesn't – it doesn't change –" Another slam. "Bloody man! Couldn't you just _not_ go?"

At those words, a very odd expression spread across his face. Almost happiness so great it couldn't be contained, almost despair enough to make him physically ill; almost both but neither. Both he mastered, and in another moment neither remained. "I gave my word."

"Your _word_ was to – to reach _Tar Valon_, not to – _not_ –"

"Be quiet."

She obeyed, if only because she didn't trust her voice.

He released one elbow, only to reach up and sweep a finger over her cheek. She blinked in surprise; a tear glistened on his fingertip. He took another from her other cheek. "The good news is, Siuan, that I seem to have broken through your armour. I must try to remember how that was done. Don't weep. All will be well. Now go back to –"

"I'm not going with the novices," Siuan said. Min had said to stick close by Bryne, or they both would die. Min was never wrong. _Never wrong_. "I'm coming with you."

He grew very still, his grasp on her elbow hard as iron. "No."

That had been his command voice. Siuan could do a pretty decent command voice herself. She gathered herself and intoned; "I _am_."

"You are going with the novices if I have to knock you unconscious and have someone carry you bound and gagged and blindfolded in a sack."

"Just you _try_ it," hissed Siuan. She was glad when his words stirred anger – glad! It was better than despair. Better than the thought of him riding off alone.

"I know what those Seanchan do to women like you. I want you good and well away from them. Do you hear me, Siuan? You're –"

"You _need_ me, Gareth. You need someone who can protect you against the _damane_ –"

"There'll be plenty of Aes Sedai around me. And plenty of good soldiers. And no one's looking to snap a collar about _my_ neck. Now be a good girl –"

_Be a good girl_? With a furious snarl she twisted free. This time, he did let her go. He let her go, and backed away, hands spread in a gesture of peace.

"I don't want to part with you in anger," he said, all while he watched her as if she might at any moment shatter. That, or explode in his face like an Illuminator's show gone wrong. "Do as the Hall told you, and help the novices escape. I don't want to ride off without knowing that you've gone somewhere safer, Siuan. I don't need that on my mind. Do you understand?"

"Do I… un-_understand_…" she whispered, trying for words. None came. She didn't know if she wanted to shout at him or plead with him. She couldn't take her eyes off his face, either. If she did, perhaps he wouldn't be there when next she looked.

"I never thought I'd need to tell _you_ to be brave, Siuan." Slowly he reached out, cupped a hand about her neck, and touched his lips to her forehead. He had to step closer to do it. He smelled of oiled leather, of well-cared-for metals, of himself. Siuan breathed him in, closed her eyes, leaned against him, palms flat on the cold steel of his worn armour. This time, she made no effort to hide how she trembled. It would have been no use.

She knew with sudden certainty that if he pushed her away then, she would weep. She crooked her fingers about the throatline of the cuirass. She wanted – _burn_ her, and at the same time, burn _him_. The bloody man had so addled her wits that she could have set her boat to sea upside down and not notice it! She wanted him to – she prepared to have her cheeks would go red as blood-tooth eels, seized her twitching courage by the scruff of its neck, and spoke: "I'm not your _daughter_, Gareth. Kiss me properly."

She raised her eyes to his just in time to see his surprise settle. To her surprise, she did not feel any heat from her cheeks. She felt calm. Oh, her knees were still weak and she couldn't bear to think of what tomorrow would bring, or the next hour, or even the next few moments. But she felt calm. To stand there with her fingers hooked almost desperately onto his armour and their eyes meeting was to be… content. He began to smile. It was that happiness again; that happiness so great it could barely be contained.

"My Lord?" came a call from outside.

Gareth glanced over his shoulder. "A moment!"

"But my Lord –"

"A _moment_!" he barked. For once, even his voice sounded annoyed.

He turned his focus back to Siuan. She remembered him tossing her onto his shoulder once, her kicking and screaming all ignored by him, and she remembered hating him for his tactless manner. But now, he laid his arms about her almost delicately, all while he studied her face. He waited for her to spurn him, she realised. He waited for her to jerk away. How silly of him. She wouldn't.

Not that _she_ was much better. _She_ was behaving as if she'd never been kissed. She was not blushing, thank the Light, but she knew how unsteady her knees felt, and how she could hardly _think_. Her mind was all fuzz, and it _must_ have shown on her face. He must think her foolish. Immature and foolish. Ridiculous, actually. The former Amyrlin Seat, reduced to leaning into a man's arms, all a-tremble and waiting for a kiss that might or might not come. Maybe he didn't actually _want_ to kiss her –

All her fears of that were washed clean away when his lips touched hers. While his embrace had been nothing but gentle, the kiss was much more insistent. She was water, and he was thirsty in the desert. She was air, and all this time he had been drowning. Metal-clad arms snaked tighter about her and it hurt, it bloody _hurt_, but she didn't care. She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. Be she water, then, if that was what he needed. Be she air. Just as long as she could stay there with him, kissing him, and she didn't have to remember – remember the bloody _Seanchan_ – and how this fool would get himself killed if he didn't –

The thought made her want to weep. From somewhere low in her throat came a whimper – at once he eased his grip. Loosened it enough to let her breathe, at least.

"Oh, Siuan, forgive –"

"Let me go now and it won't be a fishing jolly I'll throw at you, it'll be a bloody _house_," she muttered between her teeth.

He chuckled. _Chuckled_! How _dared_ he –

She forgave him when he bent to kiss her again.

Not moments later, a third call from outside made Gareth jerk upright. She buried her face against his steel-clad shoulder.

Her thoughts felt like tangled netting. It would take deft fingers and days to sort it all out. She had asked him to kiss her? _Asked_ him! Whatever would he think of her now?

Chasing blue eyes, was he? Well, he would be sorely disappointed if he'd been after a wife. She was Blue Ajah and would never marry, never. What if he thought that she would?

All she could possibly do was…

The thought startled her. It startled her as if a blacksmith's puzzle had just suddenly snapped into place all on its own. Why hadn't she seen it before?

It would give her a reason to forget the novices and go with him. Not even the Hall could have argued against it. Well – not very convincingly.

"My precious Siuan," he murmured into her hair. "If only you knew how hard this just became."

"I'll come with –"

He tilted her face up with a finger beneath her chin. "No, you will _not_. Don't argue with me. I meant what I said about unconscious in a sack."

She stared down to the floor beside her, just to escape that calm gaze, while she thought furiously. Marry him, _no_. Aes Sedai had other ways of tying men to them. More effective ways. Not that anything could have bound Gareth Bryne stronger than his given word. But the Aes Sedai way had other advantages.

_Just say it, you coward_. "Then at least… let me help you. I can use the Power to make you stronger."

He raised an eyebrow. "I haven't heard of any such thing."

"Yes, you have. It's the…" Burn her for hesitating now, but hesitate she did. _Burn_ her and feed her to the silverpike! "It's the Warder bond."

"No," he told her, his face darkening.

"Gareth, it would _help_ you. You know that Warders can survive wounds other men die of, and last longer without food or water. It might keep you _alive_."

"But if I die, it will hurt you, and to no use. _No_, Siuan."

"I'll take my chances."

"Besides, I can't put myself in a position where you can just snap your fingers and command me. Not…" He smiled at her. "Not _yet_. You would use the bond as an excuse to come with me. Or you would tell me not to go –"

"I would never make you break your word, Gareth Bryne!" She narrowed her eyes. "And so what if I used the bond as an excuse to come –?"

Her words were cut sharply off as he kissed her again. Just brushed his lips past hers – but she still went quiet. "_No_," he repeated, and before she could protest, he kissed her again. With more force. Enough to curl her toes, burn the man. "I have to go."

Siuan seized his hair in both hands. "You listen to _me_, Lord Bryne," she hissed. A quick weave of Air rooted him firmly to the spot – he groaned when she tightened the bonds. She had snaked them in beneath his armour, for better effect. Served the man _right_ if it hurt a little. "You don't just kiss a woman and then run off and leave her wondering whether you live or die. All said and done, I am _still_ Aes Sedai, not a serving maid, and what the Hall has or hasn't told me is no worry of _yours_. _My_ choice is to go with you, and you can just try to stop me. And here's _your_ choice. I can bond you, and it will make you stronger. Or –"

"My Lord Bryne, is everything alright?" The aide spoke as he came back into the tent. "They are waiting for you, Lord Bryne. The men are beginning to – oh. Oh! I'm sorry. I'm –"

Siuan retreated one single, dignified step. Now she was just _angry_. Good. Anger she could use, could deal with.

Gareth bloody Bryne, held fast by the One Power, was free to turn his head, if not much more. So he turned his head to look at his aide. "That's quite alright, Breckon. Siuan Sedai was just about to go. Would you assign a couple of men to see her safely back to –"

"No," Siuan cut him off in her best Amyrlin voice. "There will be no need for that, Breckon. I will be accompanying your Lord today."

Breckon bowed to her, but he looked confused. _His_ cheeks _were_ red as blood-tooth eels.

Gareth spoke up. "Don't be foolish, Siuan. Breckon, take –"

Foolish? _Her_? He dared speak to her of _foolish_?! She hissed into his ear: "_One_ more word of escorting me off, and I'll stuff your mouth full of Air and won't take it out until you've promised to be _nice_."

"Siuan, I have no time for this. The Seanchan –"

"Unless the Seanchan are stopped, I might as well hand myself and every novice alive right over and save them the trouble of _chasing us down_."

"Which is exactly _why_ I intend to stop them," he told her, very softly, very determinately. "Now let me go, Siuan."

"Say that I may come with you."

"I've no –"

"_Say it_."

"Siuan," and now the coolness of his voice began to speak of anger, "the Seanchan –"

"The bloody Seanchan can _wait_ until you've come to your senses."

"This is very ill-mannered of you."

Siuan drew breath to reply – then bit her words down, and narrowed her eyes. _Ill-mannered_? Then what did he call tossing her and an entire laundry basket into the water when he didn't think his bloody shirts were _clean_ enough? "You and I," she said, "are one day going to have a long and interesting conversation about manners."

"_Let me_ –" he began to thunder.

She stuffed Air into his mouth. "Your chances of surviving today will only improve if I come with you," she said, too softly for her voice to carry to Breckon, "So I _intend_ to come with you. And don't think you can have someone be clever and knock me unconscious. I've tied off the weaves. You knock me out, and you might well be stuck here for hours. _Including_ that gag in your mouth."

Gareth glared at her.

"When you agree to let me come with you, just nod and I'll untie you. Until then, I think I'll sit down."

With a reassuring smile to Breckon, she backed away from Gareth and sat herself down on a coffer. She neatly arranged her skirts over her knees, folded herself in practiced Aes Sedai calm, and waited.

Breckon shuffled his feet. "My Lord –"

"Don't interrupt him; he's thinking," Siuan cut off coolly. "He's thinking very _hard_."

Breckon looked from her, to Lord Bryne, and back again to her. Suddenly he seemed to understand. His face rapidly lost most of its colour. "Ah, ehm, Siuan Sedai, my – my Lord Bryne needs to –"

Siuan, with her sternest Amyrlin expression on her face, _looked_ at him, and poor Breckon near swallowed his tongue.

Then Gareth nodded.

"Your _word_ on it, Lord Bryne?"

Gareth nodded again.

Hiding her relief, Siuan untied him. For a moment he seemed to sag a little when the bonds let him go, but in another moment he stood straight. "I very much," he said quietly, "look forward to our conversation on manners."

Then he bowed his head to her and held out his arm. Siuan took it.

Breckon, relieved that they were up and moving, disappeared back out of the tent.

Gareth's glance at Siuan was full of reproach, even if his voice was mild. "I'm taking you with me, Siuan. But in return you must promise to stay close, and do as I say. Promise me that, or you might as well tie me back up, for I'll be shouting for strong men and that aforementioned sack, all manners be damned."

"For today, I'll take your instruction," she agreed. "For tomorrow, I promise nothing."

"Fair enough. There is one more thing. I've changed my mind."

"On what?"

"If you are coming with me… then I might as well be your Warder. Light knows I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Siuan smiled at him. She practically beamed. He sounded so grim, but to her there was nothing grim about it. If they kept together, Min had said, they would live. Min was never wrong.

And if she and Gareth Bryne still lived at the end of the day, there would still be hope for the Tower.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Author's Note:_

Please tell me if I've gotten the characters all wrong. I had a difficult time pinning them down. But the story was in my head and it had to come out, characterisation right or wrong.

Now then. I don't usually write romance, and I'm _dying_ - we'll, at least I'm on my toes and chewing my nails - for some feedback. So please review.


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